“Oh, Martin,” expostulated his wife, “don’t go out—­at least not alone.”

Again he lost control of himself, and said savagely, “I will.  Don’t any one dare to follow me,” and he almost rushed away.

For a moment Mrs. Jocelyn tried to bear up from instinctive politeness, but her lip quivered like that of a child; then the tide of her feeling swept her away, and she fled to the adjoining apartment.  Mildred followed her at once, and Belle, with a white, scared face, looked into Roger’s eyes.  He rose and came directly to her and said, “Belle, you know you can always count on me.  Your father is so ill that I think I had better follow him.  I can do so unobserved.”

“Oh, Roger—­why—­is—­is papa losing his mind?”

His quick eye now noted that Fred and Minnie had become so impressed that something dreadful had happened that they were about to make the occasion more painful by their outcries, and he turned smilingly to them, and with a few reassuring words and promises soon quieted their fears.  “Be a brave little woman, Belle,” he at last said to her.  “There is my address, and please promise to let me know if I can do anything for you and for—­for Mrs. Jocelyn.”

“Don’t go—­please don’t go yet,” Belle pleaded.  “Papa’s looks and words to-night fill me with a strange fear as if something awful might happen.”

“Perhaps if I follow your father I may prevent—­”

“Oh, yes, go at once.”

He was intercepted at the door by the entrance of Mr. Jocelyn, who had had ample time in the few brief minutes that had elapsed to fill his system with the subtle stimulant.  He now took Roger by the hand most cordially, and said, “Pardon me, Mr. Atwood.  My health has become somewhat impaired of late, and I fear I have just had a rather bad turn; but the air has revived me, and the trouble now has passed.  I insist that you stay and spend the evening with us.”

“Oh, papa,” cried Belle, rushing into his arms, “how you frightened us!  Please go into my room, there, and comfort mamma by telling her you are all well again.”

This he did so effectively that he soon led her out smiling through her tears, for her confidence in him was the growth and habit of years, and anything he said to her seemed for the moment true.  And, indeed, the man was so changed that it was hard to realize he was not well.  His face, in contrast with its aspect a few moments since, appeared to have regained its natural hue and expression; every trace of irritability had passed away, and with his old-time, easy courtesy and seeming frankness he talked so plausibly of it all that Belle and his wife, and even Roger, felt that they had attached undue importance to a mere temporary indisposition.